"Please, there must be something you can do. Oh if he'd just managed to keep his eyes open, two more minutes would have been enough."
“You will all die for what you have done to me!” Van Torxes hissed. As his face reddened with anger, he stormed out of the room towards his chambers.
"kara diamos ica" the wind stopped, and for a moment he was deaf to the world, and then his hearing returned.
as he looked around him and his bod began to warm agian after hours of finding a spot to shelter from the winter strom that was raging in the skies.
"IT WORKED!, im safe, now i only need to make my way to the academy"
The village sits on the edge of the deep fjord, often engulfed in mist or rain. Its people are fishermen, who work even through the sea-ravaging winter. And they pray to the gods of the deep.
At the beginning of every winter they hold a summoning ceremony. Three boats are taken out into the fjord, a hornsman on each. The mournful horns are blown in the language of the whales, the gods of the deep. The whales sometimes appear in answer to these calls, and it is taken as a good omen when they do.
To a party of PCs wandering the misty hills and valleys nearby however, the doleful whalesong of the horns can be disturbing and misinterpreted...